


mistakes may have been made

by Fatale (femme)



Series: home [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-03-26 23:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: Magnus may have magic, but he is outnumbered 2 to 1, and his enemies have an inexhaustible amount of energy. He is in the trenches; he’s been outgunned and outfoxed, and there’s nothing to do for it except admit defeat and quietly await death.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> directly follows "nobody told me it would be like this" -- same deal here. stand-alone fics, updated when the mood strikes, hopefully not 8 in a week like last time. :(
> 
> i have not read the books about their kids, though i did skim someone's copy, so we're going show canon only, which has not caught up with this, so this is all purely speculative!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read it in Russian here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/7839892

 

 

 

While changing shitty diapers has never been a particular dream of his, Magnus can’t say he regrets any decision that brought him to this place, except maybe a few international incidents that he feels have been blown grossly out of proportion.

“Blueberry,” Magnus says, “when are you going to use the potty?” He thought they had it nailed six months ago until, out of the blue, Max decided he didn't want to be a big boy anymore. Incidentally, it coincided with an uptick of demon activity that kept Magnus and Alec working longer hours than usual.

“Never,” Max proclaims with a wide grin, proudly showing off his two prominent front teeth, larger than the row of surrounding smaller teeth. He looks, Magnus thinks, like a particularly smug navy-colored beaver.

“Then we’re going to have a long and fragrant life together,” Magnus tells him seriously. He gets Max ready for bed alone, helping him into dinosaur pulls-ups and cowboy pajamas.

Alec’s on patrol tonight, though he doesn’t technically have to be anymore. He likes to go out once a week to prove…whatever, Magnus doesn’t know. That he’s still some young hotshot? Personally, Magnus can’t see the purpose of being in charge if you still do the grunt work.

Magnus puts the toothbrush in the holder, screws the cap back on the bubblegum mouthwash and shakes his head. He’s a little surprised Alec doesn’t make Max brush his teeth with charcoal and baking soda, gargle with peroxide, given his own harsh upbringing, but Alec is constantly learning and growing. It was a sad moment when Magnus realized Alec genuinely saw nothing wrong with how he was raised, but wouldn’t do the same to someone he loved.

Alec stumbles in, wincing and trying to hide it badly. He settles on the couch and Magnus comes over to check on him with Max trailing cautiously behind. It must be bad if Alec didn’t immediately seek them out.

“Hey, maybe you should go to your room,” Magnus tells Max, dropping to his knees. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Max cranes his head to look around Magnus, get a better look at his other father. “Daddy has an ouchie?” Max asks, blue eyes round and worried.

“He’ll be fine,” Magnus reassures him.

“I want to see him,” Max insists, lower lip threatening to jut out, eyes filling with tears. He has Alec’s stubbornness and his own flair for the dramatic: he’s an absolute menace and he can’t even wipe his own butt. Magnus caves, because he knows he will eventually, anyway. In a battle of the wills, Magnus has magic, but Max has a preschooler’s conviction and literally nothing else better to do all day.

Magnus finds himself consistently surprised that a toothless meatloaf has, in three short years, become a mini person, with hopes and dreams and the uncanny ability to wake him up just as he’s drifted off to sleep.

And they are shaping this person, this mini warlock, who will touch countless lives over the years -- the responsibility makes him tremble if he thinks about it too hard.

“Okay, just for a minute, Max. Daddy’s very silly,” Magnus whispers conspiratorially. “He thinks he’s so big and tough and we have to let him keep thinking that.”

“I heard that,” Alec mumbles from the couch. “I could benchpress you.”

“Sounds like something to try later,” Magnus tells Alec. Thank God Max is still too young to catch sexual innuendo, but the time is coming soon when he and Alec will have to pretend to be both clueless and celibate in order not to embarrass their kid.

Alec sits up like he’s been electrocuted and covers Max’s ears. “Did you turn that into a sex thing?” he whispers furiously. “I don’t get it, but it still feels like a sex thing.”

After all this time, after all the depraved and possibly illegal things Magnus has talked Alec into, Alec still acts like sex is unsuitably vulgar for children to know about. Magnus mostly defers to Alec’s opinion, because for all his fretting, he’s made incredible leaps from the man that wouldn’t even let Magnus touch his dick while their baby was in the apartment, lest Max accidentally overhear something _dirty_. It was a cold lonely year, and not something Magnus is eager to repeat.

“Sex sex sex,” Max chants gleefully, tiny fingers wrapped around Alec’s hands.

Alec closes his eyes, looks like he’s silently praying for death.

Magnus laughs so hard he feels tears on his cheeks. He doesn’t think it’s possible to die of laughter, but he’s going to try. He doesn’t know what’s funnier - Max’s proud smile or Alec’s red, despairing face. Possibly both.

“We can talk about it later in about eighteen years,” Magnus says to Max. “Now that you’ve seen daddy, are you ready to go to bed?”

“No.”

“You’re going to anyway,” Magnus says and lets Alec kiss Max’s head goodnight, before scooping him up and carrying him to his room.

Last week, Alec put glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, and with a little push, Magnus made them twinkle.

They reflect back against Max’s dark eyes, as his mouth stretches in a tiny kitten yawn, eyes blinking slowly. “Daddy’s okay?” he asks, burrowing his face into Magnus’ shoulder.

Magnus carries him over to the window, looks out over the city lights twinkling not unlike the ceiling. “He’s very sturdy,” Magnus says, finally. “But, Blueberry, you and I? We have to take care of him.”

“Make him pancakes?” Max asks.

“Every day.”

“Use the potty?”

“He’s already pretty good at that,” Magnus says, grinning. “We have to let him know every day how much he means to us, how much we love him.”

Max’s hair tickles Magnus’ nose as he nods his head in agreement, small fists clutching at his shirt.

Magnus closes the curtains and puts Max to bed, reads him a story about monsters with a flawed business model, and tucks him in carefully.

He shuts the door behind him, sees Alec still spread out on the couch, chest rising and falling slowly. He pads over to the couch and reaches out, hand hovering just over Alec’s dark hair, sending out small pulses of healing magic. Even battered and unshowered, he looks unfairly handsome, like the answer to a question Magnus wasn’t even aware he was asking.

Alec’s eyes flutter open and he smiles up at him. “He’s asleep?”

Magnus lowers his hand and unconsciously, Alec presses his cheek into Magnus’ palm, stubbled jaw rough against his fingertips. “You’ve made me so happy,” he tells Alec, and barely recognizes his own voice.

“Yeah?” His brow furrows worriedly. “This isn’t another sex thing, is it? Because if it is, I’m not really up for it.”

Magnus chuckles. “Not an ounce of romance in you.”

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll let you put your romance in me,” Alec promises with a yawn and turns his head to kiss Magnus’ wrist, right against his pulse.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @MariaJose3108 prompted: Malec + their kids

Magnus calls Alec on his way home from meeting with a client to see if he needs to pick up anything for dinner.

“No,” Alec says happily. “I’m cooking. Max is helping.”

Magnus' heart speeds up unpleasantly. It’s been a while since Alec has cooked for him, but he can’t imagine the addition of an angry, moody tiny human is going to help Alec’s disastrous culinary endeavors and Magnus’ continued flirtations with food poisoning.

Magnus says a small prayer, makes a sign of the cross, and whatever else he can think of before portaling home. He’s not religious by any means, but he thinks it’s best to hedge his bets.

 

\---

 

His return to Casa de Lightwood-Bane is as auspicious as one would expect. He is greeted by Alec -- sweaty, nervous -- and Max, who is happily emptying fun-sized bags of m&ms into a large copper stock pot.

The whole apartment smells like burning chocolate and gastric misery.

Magnus comes up behind Alec and drops a kiss against his clammy neck. The dark hair lying against Alec’s nape is curling appealingly. He needs a haircut, but Magnus won’t be the one to remind him. He likes to comb and twist his fingers through it while they’re in bed, Alec gasping into Magnus’ mouth.

“Look at what we’re making,” Max chirps, standing on a chair and cheerfully handing Alec more m&ms.

“Izzy said I need to foster Max’s creativity,” Alec explains, eating a piece of chocolate and staring into the pot miserably. He knows he’s fucked up, but he’s too stubborn to admit defeat now. It’s one of his best and most insufferable qualities. Alec’s going to see this through until the very bitter end and now they all have to suffer for it. "She's been reading lots of books, wants to be better than Jace."

"That won't be hard. Jace gave him a knife for his birthday," Magnus points out and Alec shrugs philosophically. He supposes for shadowhunters, it's a perfectly normal gift to give a toddler. “Max couldn’t funnel that creativity into decoupage?”

“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds gross,” Alec says bluntly.

Magnus always forgets that for all shadowhunters’ centuries of accumulated wisdom, it is a very narrow kind of knowledge, and fun rarely has anything to do with it. They also have a narrow idea of what constitutes family, but in Alec’s case, he diverged so far left from his brethren, he practically ended up in a different country entirely.

Alec is far more special than he knows, far more than he’ll ever believe, no matter how many times Magnus tries to tell him.

“Uh,” Magnus says, peering into the pot over Alec’s shoulder. “It looks like--” death, the devil coming for my immortal soul "--delicious,” Magnus finishes weakly.

“It looks wonderful,” Alec says, shooting Magnus a significant look.

“Yeah, that,” Magnus agrees.

“Come on, it’s almost finished. Go wash up. Same for you,” Alec says, nudging Max.

 

\---

 

Alec sets the table while Magnus gets Max ready to eat, carefully rolling his sleeves up and putting on his bib. He doesn’t know why they bother. Max mostly just throws food in the general direction of his face.

Alec lays the food out: a salad, nice roasted potatoes, thank god, and the unidentifiable stew.

“Well, the potatoes and salad look great,” Magnus says, searching for something supportive to say.

“I bought them."

“Ah,” Magnus says.

When he has finished his salad, eaten three helpings of the potatoes, and cannot possibly put it off any longer, Magnus takes his first bite of stew. It’s awful, it sticks to the roof of his mouth, is some kind of meat with soggy vegetables and a candy coating. It’s one of the singular most unpleasant moments of Magnus’ life and he’s lived through multiple World Wars and a Toby Keith concert.

Alec is across the table, mouth twitching and trying not to laugh. Max is next to him, kicking his feet and happily eating this mess. He grins up at Magnus, food everywhere but his bib. It is awful, terrible, exhausting, glorious. 

“Do you like it?” Max asks, looking up at Magnus anxiously, little brow adorably furrowed.

“It’s perfect,” Magnus says simply.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus may have magic, but he is outnumbered 2 to 1, and his enemies have an inexhaustible amount of energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 more parts planned, i guess, but it's not super high on my list of priorities right now.

 

  
Magnus may have magic, but he is outnumbered 2 to 1, and his enemies have an inexhaustible amount of energy. He is in the trenches; he’s been outgunned and outfoxed, and there’s nothing to do for it except admit defeat and quietly await death.

Madzie, so sweet when Catarina dropped her off earlier, is screaming laughing and chasing Max from room to room. When he agreed to watch her for the day, Magnus assumed she’d help him with Max, since she’s usually so mature and thoughtful, but he’d forgotten the most important fact--she’s still a child. And Max has a particular way of inciting chaos, convincing otherwise well-behaved children that yes, a food fight is a _great_ idea. Magnus has high hopes for Max’s future, even while despairing of his present circumstances.

What did he do with his free time before he had a child? He can’t remember, but he bets it was sexy. He wipes his cheek and sees red smeared on his fingertips. Magnus makes a wounded noise and pops a finger into his mouth. Old spaghetti sauce, gross.

He could call Alec, but he’s busy at the Institute with an orphaned shadowhunter child they found in Buenos Ares. Alec has been spending increasing amounts of time with him, talking and training, comforting a kid who has lost everything in the world and Magnus certainly can’t begrudge him that; he knows all too well what it’s like to be scared and alone. He sees Alec, the toll it takes on him and recognizes the look in Alec’s eye -- he’s falling in love, slowly and surely -- just as he did with Max.

With a groan, Magnus rolls over on the ground and pulls his phone out. In any military campaign, when staring down the barrel of utter defeat and humiliation, a good commander knows to call in reinforcements.

   
\---

  
Izzy knocks on the door and Magnus staggers over to answer it. She’s holding takeout and a bottle of tequila.

“While I’m generally a fan of day drinking,” Magnus says, “one of us should probably stay sober.”

“It’s for me,” she says. She looks at her bags. “Damn, forgot the limes.”

“Not a problem,” he says, waving a hand and a freshly-cut plate of limes appears on the table along with a salt shaker. He’s unsure whether to be envious or relieved. He would like nothing more than to be drinking, but he also despises mid-range liquor. “Fight with Simon?”

“Worse, my mother,” she says. “And I don’t want to talk about it. I want to drink.”

“You thought a house with young children would be the place to do that?”

Izzy shrugs. “Hey, you called me. And I thought seeing my precious nephew might help get me out of my funk.”

“Your precious nephew started a food fight.”

Izzy looks around at the splashes of red and green on the walls and says, “I see that. By the way, you have a bit of food on your nose.”

Magnus takes a half-hearted swipe at his face, no doubt making it worse. “My life is an unending stream of elegance these days.”

Izzy laughs. “But you love it.”

“Yes, most of the time, yes,” he admits. He cannot even begin to express the frustration, the exhaustion, the endless lows, and the incredible highs parenting has brought him. And while on the subject of parents, Magnus says, “I know Maryse can be a pill, and if you really don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. Just know that you can, if you need to.”

Magnus doesn’t like Maryse, probably never will. His first instinct is to tell Izzy her mom is a flaming bag of dogshit, utterly irredeemable, and she should probably cut her losses, but Alec has irrevocably changed how he judges her. Living in close proximity with someone that will seemingly forgive her for anything, who strives to see the best in people, means he cannot hate her, not really. She has inexplicably become family, even if she’s the same level of cringey as the racist uncle that gets drunk at family reunions and starts hitting on teenagers. Still, goddamnit, she’s family.

Izzy pours herself a shot and takes it. “My mom, she just--I always think she’s making such progress, turning over a new leaf, and then she’ll say something terrible, just awful, and I hate her again.”

“You’ll cool off, talk it out and forgive her,” Magnus says, sure of himself. Isabelle is as good of a person as Alec. He doesn’t know how, but Maryse and Robert raised spectacular children. 

Magnus’ personal relationship with forgiveness is a complicated one: namely, before he met Alec, he didn’t have one. Once a person crossed him, they were an enemy forever. But the past years have tested who he is a person, expanded his love and patience in ways he didn’t know possible, and he is curious, at the end of it, who he will be.

“If this is what being an adult is, it sucks,” Izzy says quietly.

“It does,” Magnus agrees. “It took me a mere 300 plus years to get here, but I have arrived.”

“Uh huh. Sure, Gandhi,” Izzy says, kicking her heels off. “Take a shot.”

   
\---

  
When Magnus realizes the kids have been suspiciously quiet, he and Izzy go to check on them.

As it turns out, Max and Madzie have broken into his office and rifled through his potions. He had a simple childproof ward on it but stupidly forgot how clever and talented Madzie could be. The truly harmful ingredients are up high, but somehow Max and Madzie have ended up floating up to the ceiling and are currently stuck there, looking worried.

“Oh, hey, kids,” Izzy says.

“Hi,” they mumble miserably.

“Well, I could possibly brew a counter-potion, but I ought to just leave you both up there. It’ll wear off in a day or two.”

He has no real intention of leaving the children weightless and floating around. Magnus does not condone lying unless it’s done by an adult for safety reasons, or to evade punishment, or to avoid general embarrassment and hurting someone’s feelings, or unless it’s really, really funny, but it’s totally worth it for the twin dismayed expressions on their faces.

“Hey,” Izzy suggests, “we could tie strings to their legs and drag them from room to room like sad little balloons.”

“You should probably stop with the tequila,” Magnus tells Izzy.

Just as he’s scanning over his potion ingredients, his eyes catch on the clock. Oh, holy fuck. Alec will be home soon. The house is wrecked, he has two kids stuck on the ceiling, and Alec’s sister is drunk.

He cannot let Alec know he what a disaster the day has been, not when they’re both aware Alec’s going to bring up adopting the orphaned child soon. Besides, before Alec left, he asked an insulting number of times if Magnus was _sure_ he could handle two kids and Magnus had rolled his eyes, told him it would be a breeze.

Magnus hasn’t been this wrong since he told Catarina in the early aughts he didn’t think cellular phones would ever be a thing with easily accessible payphones on every corner, and he certainly doesn’t want Alec to know it. Alec is the absolute love of his life, the spring in his step, his raison d’etre -- he can also be an exceedingly smug little prick. Magnus tries never to compare Alec and Camille, but the truth is, he’s slightly concerned about his overwhelming attraction to hot, control-freak brunettes with shitty attitudes.

So Magnus takes a deep breath and decides to man up, to do what every parent has done since the very beginning of time: he bribes the children.

He cranes his neck to talk to Max and Madzie. “I will give you both all the candy in the world if you help me clean up and pretend like we spent the whole day scrapbooking.”

“What’s scrapbooking?” Max asks, head tilted consideringly

“I’m not sure,” Magnus confesses, “but it seems boring, so probably something Dad would approve of.” He feels like he should maybe sweeten the deal. “Plus, you won’t have to eat any of his cooking for the next week.”

“And you’ll get us down from here?” Madzie asks.

“Obviously,” Magnus says, already flipping through his books.

 

\---

 

Izzy is working on straightening up the apartment while Magnus brews the potion like his life depends on it, and it very well might.

“Is that a wolf fang?” Madzie asks, craning her neck for a better view from the ceiling.

“Oh,” Magnus says, “ _now_ you’re an expert.” He grinds up the fang with his mortar and pestle and adds a pinch to the brew with a sigh of relief as it turns an incandescent milky purple. Almost done.

Izzy comes in to tell Magnus she’s finished cleaning and she’s out of here before Alec comes back and yells at everybody. He thanks her sincerely and creates a portal back to the Institute because, despite what she says, she’s in no condition to take public transportation. She’d probably accidentally end up in the Bronx. And then Magnus would have to explain why there are children stuck to the ceiling _and_ they have to go find Alec’s drunk sister wandering around Yonkers.

He finishes the potion and carefully gives it to Max and Madzie through a straw while balancing precariously on the edge of a chair. He always knew parenting would bring him to new and exciting heights.

Magnus breathes a sigh of relief as they immediately start floating down towards the ground.

   
\---

   
Magnus drops Madzie off at Catarina’s and gets back just as Alec is closing Max’s door behind him.

“So, did everything go okay today?” Alec asks.

“Great,” Magnus _fucking lies_. “No problem at all.”

But Alec’s not paying attention, too busy staring at the counter, where there’s a neat row of shot glasses and lime wedges.

“Those are not mine,” Magnus says quickly.

“Didn’t think so, unless you've started wearing red lipstick when I’m not around.” Alec holds up a smudged glass. He gathers them up and starts rinsing them out in the sink. He says, faux-casually, “So Izzy just happened to stop by, huh?”

Magnus’ sense of danger tingles, and he parses his response carefully. Alec’s ability to sniff out lies is legendary and he doesn’t like the speculative gleam in his eye. “Apparently, she had a fight with your mom?”

“Uh huh,” Alec says, wiping his hands and crossing his arms, which makes them look fabulous and unreasonably distracting.

“She thought spending time with Max would make her feel better?”

Alec huffs, “Nice try. Scrapbooking, really?”

He has been caught and he can accept defeat gracefully. “How did you find out?”

“Magnus,” Alec says, looking at him pityingly. “You have pasta sauce in your hair and there are footprints on the ceiling.”

He laughs softly. “So, since I’ve been busted, can I ask you something really important?”

“Always.”

Magnus leans close, looks deeply into Alec’s eyes and asks, “What the fuck is scrapbooking?”

Alec shrugs. “Don’t know, seems boring.” He presses a light kiss to Magnus’ forehead and Magnus knows he’s already forgiven. It seems ridiculously petty now to begrudge Alec’s ability to forgive people he loves just about anything, simply because he occasionally extends it to people Magnus would rather he didn’t.

Unable to resist, Magnus sneaks over to the bedroom and he peeks in on Max, sleeping on his stomach now, narrow little-boy shoulders rising and falling with his soft breaths, and feels a love that suffuses his whole body, pulsating from the very core of him, aching and very nearly painful.

There are no parenting books, potions, or easy magical fixes for how to raise good, kind children -- there is only patience, time, luck, and love. Always the love.

Magnus knows, with the same kind of rising terror when he learned faux fur was making a fashion comeback, that he will forget today in a week or two, they’ll adopt the young orphaned shadowhunter, and they will do this all over again.

And what a hell of a ride it’s going to be.

When he gets back to the kitchen, Alec is grimacing, an empty shot glass in front of him. “I feel like I’ve made a lot of bad decisions precipitated by tequila.”

“You’d be in good company,” Magnus says and holds out an empty glass for Alec to fill. Alec pours two shots. Magnus picks his up carefully, and they clink their glasses together. “So let's do something stupid,” he says.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

After blood, sweat, bargaining, and a fair amount of tears, the kids are finally settled in bed, and Alec is busy clipping his toenails.

Magnus has been in a lot of relationships, all of varying degrees of intimacy. Of course, societal norms change over time, but he cannot recall ever feeling quite so comfortable with a person before, and there’s something kind of magical about that, but--

This is some bullshit.

Magnus supposes the true test of intimacy is clipping your toenails in front of someone you want to keep sleeping with you. It is an act so mundane and unspeakably unsexy, that it must mean love. It speaks to confidence, security, and a whole host of other things that have been sorely missing in Alec’s life. The problem is, it’s kind of gross, and Magnus desperately wants him to stop without hurting his feelings in the process.

Magnus has been told he can be kind of stubborn, temperamental about things that righteously piss him off, and sometimes a real asshole -- mostly by Alec during fights and almost all of it earned fairly. Magnus can be delicate and circumspect, true; he hasn’t lived this long without learning to talk out of both sides of his mouth, but when it’s him and Alec, he generally prefers not to. Alec nearly always says what’s on his mind, and Magnus is ridiculously grateful that he can do the same. Sometimes.

“We’re still young,” Magnus says. “We’re still hot and romantic.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alec says absently, clipping a particularly large toenail. Magnus winces. “You’re very romantic.”

“What the last romantic thing I did for you?” Magnus demands. He waves his hand, and the bed is clean.

“See, that right there was pretty romantic,” Alec says, thankfully folding his clippers up and putting them away.

“That was just hygienic. Perhaps the bed isn’t the best place for you to do that.”

“I wish you wouldn’t eat oranges in bed. The juice gets everywhere, and I hate the smell, but here we are,” Alec says mildly.

“Here we are,” Magnus says, unimpressed. Out of pure spite, he waves his hand again and an orange appears. He peels the orange very deliberately and watches a spurt of juice arc up and land perfectly on the tip of Alec’s nose.

Alec sighs and hangs his head.

Magnus may have done that on purpose, but what jury on earth would convict him?

 

  
\---

 

  
Try as he might, Magnus just can’t let go of this idea that too much intimacy is ruining their relationship. He gets Alec to clear his schedule and he does the same. He arranges for Catarina to take the boys for the night. Izzy is gagging for the chance to watch them, but Magnus fears what she would teach them. Like so many childless people who absolutely love little children, she desperately wants them to like her, which both children sense and take advantage of. It’s going to have to be addressed eventually, and Magnus nominates Alec for that.

As the boys portal out, the sudden silence is jarring. There are toys everywhere, paint on the wall, footprints still on the ceiling. It looks like an absolute madhouse.

“The inmates are running the asylum,” Magnus groans.

Alec is immediately on alert, reaching for his stele. “What inmates, where?”

“I -- what?”

“ _What inmates_ , Magnus?”

“It’s an expression,” Magnus explains, a little sorry for even bringing it up in the first place. He does sometimes forget that of all of the Shadow World, except perhaps the Fair Folk, Shadowhunters are the weirdest and most out of touch. Even Raphael would have gotten the joke. He would have scowled at Magnus for it, but still.

Alec relaxes and looks around at the drawings taped to every surface, the toys scattered haphazardly across the floor. “They’ve taken over our lives a little,” he admits. The mess doesn’t seem to bother him overmuch; after all, he’s used to Magnus throwing stuff around whenever the mood suits him.

It is very easy to let your kids become to center of your world, Magnus supposes. To forget that before, you were a person, too.

The very idea of raising two men, to help determine how they will treat the people in their lives, how they will impact the world, how they may raise children of their own someday -- sometimes the responsibility is _staggering_.

And then one of those men will burp loudly, they’ll both start laughing, and they’re boys again, young children that remind Magnus that time is the one thing he’s got, limited and fleeting as it is. He barely has his own shit together, constantly seems to make mistakes, but he doesn’t have to have it figured out just yet. He has to do the best he can and have a little faith. One thing he's learned from Alec is that when it comes to family, intentions always matter.

Magnus had so many romantic plans for the evening, but once the house is clean, neither feel like doing anything. They’re just kind of enjoying the blessed and slightly unsettling silence. They could have sex, but they do that most every night. It’s not wild and experimental like it used to be, laughing and tumbling into bed, discovering each other's bodies, slowly peeling back layers like a gift. Magnus has mostly put away his furry handcuffs and the paddle that horrified Alec so much the first time he saw it. The sex is good, slow and sometimes lazy. To be fair, occasionally a little half-assed, but he knows what Alec likes, what makes him come apart beneath his hands, and he just wants to make Alec feel good.

The kids won't be kids forever, and there's time for the handcuffs, yet. 

He’d like to say they do something amazing with their night off, but mostly they watch trashy TV they swear to their kids they don’t watch, eat ice cream for dinner in their underwear, nap lazily on each other with Alec drooling just a little on Magnus' chest, make out some while the television flickers in the dark. It’s _great_.

In the morning, when Catarina brings the boys back, they’re relaxed for about fifteen minutes until Max won’t stop poking Rafael, Rafael retaliates by pinching his leg, and Max sits on the floor and cries. Then Rafael says he’s hungry, Max joins in, they both refuse everything Magnus and Alec offer to make them, declare they don't eat green or red food, even though they did just yesterday. They settle in happily with plain egg noodles. His kids are probably going to get scurvy, but at least they'll sleep tonight.

The apartment is wrecked in about fifteen minutes; the National Guard declares a state of emergency in thirty. One day, archaeologists will excavate their apartment, baffled by the sheer amount of madness contained therein and decide it was the fall of some major empire. Perhaps the last vestiges of Magnus' quickly deteriorating sanity.

Max runs through the living room, followed by Alec, yelling, “You have to wear pants, everyone has to wear pants whether they like it or not!” Rafael is on the floor, holding his stomach and giggling madly.

Alec must win out, because he brings a sulky Max back and sits him down next to Rafael with crayons and a coloring book before starting on dinner. Magnus thinks longingly about all the takeout menus jammed in the kitchen drawer.

Curry at 3 am, pay-per-view porn, the kids playing quietly, Alec in the kitchen making something truly vile: what a time to be alive, Magnus reflects, soaking it all in.

Just then, Max jumps up, clutching at his butt. “I can’t hold the stink in!" he yells as he runs towards the bathroom. From the kitchen, Alec curses softly, and Magnus smells something burning. That’s how Alec knows meat is cooked, even though Magnus has explained multiple times that meat is usually done far before it turns black.

Rafael looks at the kitchen and shakes his head, exhausted beyond his years. He knows what hell-level of indigestion awaits them all, but they’ll all eat it for Alec.

Magnus laughs quietly to himself. His life is crazy, an absolute mess, but he's had easy before and knows perfection is the antithesis of authenticity. This is real, hard, and endlessly rewarding, like a dream he never realized he had, a dream he never _dared_ to have. 

"Food's ready," Alec calls out, and Magnus' stomach makes an anticipatory lurch of horror.

Magnus sends a reluctant Rafael to get Max out of the bathroom and picks up a few toys to clear a path, savoring the moments of calm before the next storm, then heads towards the warm light of the kitchen where everyone's waiting for him to arrive. 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Alec is on patrol when Magnus gets the call. He listens with increasing fury as a voice tells him his son has been arrested for Public Intoxication, and he can come and collect him at any time.

Holy shit, Magnus thinks, they have _teenagers_.

He could call Alec, but he’s busy and doesn’t need the distraction. He stops by Rafael’s room to let him know he’s popping out for a minute. Rafael, because he’s their _good child_ , is asleep and grumpily mumbles his acknowledgment before turning over and snoring loudly. His room smells like socks, Axe body spray, and a whole host of other mysterious fetid boy scents.

Magnus shakes his head and closes the door behind him, then portals to the back of the police station.

  
\---

  
The precinct smells suspiciously of feet, doughnuts, and burned coffee, probably the most unpleasant trifecta of odors Magnus could possibly imagine. “I’m here to collect my son, Max Lightwood-Bane,” he tells the bored looking patrolwoman on duty.

Jesus, Bane is right. He’s never regretted his chosen name more.

He waits for the cop to hustle his sheepish-looking son to the front, where Magnus is waiting for him, tapping his foot obnoxiously.

“Papa--" Max starts. He looks tired, young, and mostly sober. _Good_.

“Save it,“ Magnus cuts him off.

He walks out the front door, hand wrapped firmly around Max by the scruff of his neck.

Heroically, he waits until they get home before he yells and rages and lectures him about responsibility and everything else, during which Max sits on the couch, shoulders hunched. Magnus sighs and rubs his face tiredly. He sits down next to Max.

“Did you at least have fun?”

Max brightens considerably. “ _So_ much fun.”

“Good,” Magnus says, ruffling his hand through his son’s untidy hair. “Go to bed, Blueberry.”

“Oh, not the nicknames again,” Max groans. “You’re so embarrassing.”

Yeah, yeah, Magnus knows. He basically lives to embarrass his children with his love and old-man affectations. At least he doesn’t tell lame dad jokes like Alec.

 _How do you make an octopus laugh? With ten-tickles!_ Then Alec would swoop in and tickle Max until tears streamed down his face, and they’d sprawl on the floor, rug mussed beneath them, out of breath and gasping.

Max is so tall now, taller than Alec. Magnus would need a step ladder to tickle him properly.

“Hey, Max?” Magnus says. “Don’t do it again.”

“Understood,” Max says, giving him a jaunty salute.

“Smartass,” Magnus says and heads to his bedroom to get some sleep. Alec will be home soon, and he has no idea how he’s going to explain this one.

   
\---

 

When Magnus wakes up in the morning, Alec is in the kitchen in sleep pants and a grey henley. He likes Alec in his all Shadowhunter black. It makes him want to do terrible and possibly illegal things to him, but he likes him this way best: unguarded and a little sleepy, cracking eggs aggressively over a large stainless steel bowl. Magnus glances inside and winces as he sees all the eggshell fragments. Alec continues, oblivious.

 _You unobservant asshole_ , Magnus thinks tenderly. There are pots and pans everywhere, and Alec has defiled them all with various iterations of world cuisine.

Alec’s sleeves are pushed up, and Magnus can see that Alec’s strength rune has been activated. The next egg just gets smashed in his fist, and Alec dumps that into the bowl, too. They’re being punished, Magnus realizes. Max fucked up and now they’re all going to suffer.

“When were you planning on telling me our son was arrested?” Alec asks, whisking the eggs more forcefully than Magnus feels is strictly warranted.

"I was waiting for the right time," Magnus hedges.

“No, you wanted to handle it yourself. Is it a warlock thing? I couldn’t possibly understand. What, you think I was never a teenager? It’s been more recent for me than you.”

It’s not that, but Magnus isn’t sure how to explain it. Simply put, Magnus is better at disciplining Max. It’s not a warlock thing at all; it’s that their personalities are so similar. He’s wild and unfettered like Magnus was, and Magnus recognizes so much of himself in Max. They’re not kindred spirits, they’re mirrors of each other, and Magnus is guiding him carefully past his own mistakes. Max adores Alec, practically worships the ground he walks on and is so terribly afraid of disappointing him. It’s another thing they have in common.

When Max does something wrong, Alec just sits across from him, looking quietly disappointed. It’s a devastatingly effective technique, a fact that Magnus can attest to. He’s been on the receiving end of it more times than he can count and each time, he swears he leaves the conversation an inch shorter. It hurts Max because he loves Alec so much, absolutely craves his approval. Their relationship is no less valid or loving, just...different. 

“You think I’ve never been arrested before?”

“Alexander,” Magnus says, scandalized and a little turned on. “You were arrested?”

“Well, no,” Alec admits and sets the whisk down on the chopping block. Magnus fears what he was doing with it out and has the uneasy feeling he’ll find out very soon. “But I could have been.”

“Okay,” Magnus says, “point taken. Next time our son is arrested by mundanes, I will tell you immediately.”

“Next time?”

“I’m sure that won’t happen,” Magnus says and laughs nervously. Magnus himself has only been arrested once, though he _has_ been banned from several small countries and from fishing in Sweden.

“And if it does?”

“Then we’ll do what we always do,” Magnus says and comes up behind Alec to wrap his arms around him. “We’ll deal with it.” Alec turns around and kisses Magnus then and doesn’t notice Magnus’ other hand inching the bowl towards the floor.

When the bowl clatters to the ground, Alec jumps and looks down. “Oh, that was breakfast,” he says, sounding disappointed.

“Oops,” Magnus says happily and kisses Alec again.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this um, two or three weeks ago but had a part to add before this? but then i stopped to write 15k of other fic and then 3x03 happened and all this got jossed, so i figure might as well go ahead and if i ever write that other part to this, then i'll post it here.

 

 

Once, Magnus drunkenly confessed his birthday to Alec, a fact that’s he’s been lying about for the better part of four centuries. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Alec to know, exactly, it was just his last jealously guarded secret. Alec, who has seen ugly truth after ugly truth spilled out in quiet confessions, who has accepted them all with a simple grace and equanimity that Magnus didn't think existed, just blinked and offered Magnus some aspirin.

That was years ago now, and Alec has celebrated his subsequent birthdays in the demure and low-key fashion Magnus prefers. Okay, that's not strictly true. Magnus did once throw a party for the Summer Solstice, then less than 24 hours later followed that up with a party for the cast of Jersey Boys after a successful Broadway run, a musical he had never seen nor had any desire to. But birthdays are personal.

There is a feeling you get when people are talking about you and plotting, like ants crawling up your spine. Throughout all of his years, Magnus has learned not to ignore that feeling. It's kept him alive more often than he can count.

Basically, he's has a finely honed survival instinct; he is an apex predator, a shark in a pool of guppies. Also, he overheard Alec on the phone; he should really keep his voice down during private conversations. If Magnus can overhear him by pressing his ear to the door, muttering a simple clarity spell, and eavesdropping, Alec really has no one to blame but himself.

Once Magnus pieced together Alec's part of the conversation, all the sneaky glances the boys have been throwing in his direction make a kind of perfect sense, and Magnus can't help but feel like a fool for not seeing it sooner. Good God, outwitted by Alec's lousy distractions and two teenaged boys who think hiding their soiled socks beneath their beds is the height of subterfuge.

Having kids has really made him soft.

 

\---

 

Magnus mostly plays along, because he supposes that's what you're supposed to do when your friends and family are all being really dorky.

Alec calls in the early evening to let him know his presence is required at the Hunter's Moon.

“Uh, oh yes, it’s terrible,” Alec says over the phone, sounding kind of embarrassed.

Grinning, Magnus leans back in his chair, getting comfortable. “Sounds like a disaster. Care to elaborate?”

“Hm? I don’t think I can,” Alec says quickly. “You know. Danger. And all.”

Magnus shakes his head in amusement. Such a terribly awkward liar. Should have had Jace or Clary call, or even Max. He always seems to wriggle his way out of appalling situations designed to make Magnus question his parenting skills. “In that case, you might want to call additional backup.”

“I think you can handle it,” Alec says, beginning to sound irritated.

“I like to have some idea of what I’m walking into. It only seems fair.”

“You fucker,” Alec swears softly. “You know.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.

“Just get here soon, Magnus,” Alec huffs.

As Magnus pulls the phone away from his ear to disconnect the call, he hears Alec says, “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Magnus says down at the phone, even though the screen's already gone dark.

They’d made a vow a long time ago to always say they loved each other daily. If they’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Sometimes they’re so tired that they honestly forget, sometimes they’re fighting and both being stubborn assholes and refuse to be the one to break, but more often than not, it’s Alec who breaks first, unable to stay angry for long, always willing to be the one to bend. It’s not weakness, it’s strength, and it took Magnus shamefully long to learn this.

Magnus sighs and stands up to open a portal.

  
\---

  
Of course, the parking lot is empty, the building still. Everyone’s inside waiting for him to pretend to be surprised, no doubt.

It occurs to Magnus that something other than a party might actually be occurring. Like, real _danger_ , and wouldn't it be embarrassing to end his long and storied life because he'd walked headlong into an attack expecting a party? If there is a place where slightly naughty but mostly good warlocks go in the afterlife, he'll see Ragnor there. And Ragnor will laugh himself sick at the stupid way Magnus let himself die. He could be okay with it, maybe, so long as Alec's there, too, somewhere in the in-between.

But not today.

He circles the building slowly, notes all the windows have been blacked out, something dark hanging over them. Very suspicious. He ends up on the back where there's a high narrow window. He kicks a crate over to the side and stands up, trying to get a glimpse inside. Of course, that's when the back door opens, and Alec strides out, mouth tugging up into a confused half-grin.

"Can I help you?"

Magnus stands on the crate, mouth open. It's not the most dignified Alec has ever seen him, but it's not the worst, either. "I wanted to do some reconnaissance?" he tries.

"Uh huh," Alec says. “The boys insisted you needed a birthday party.”

“I’m sure you had nothing to do with this.”

“Yeah, well, the boys are nearly grown up. How many more of these days do we have?” Completely oblivious to the statement that hits Magnus like a freight train, like an absolute fucking bullet to the chest, Alec continues, “You were born today. I think that's worth celebrating.”

Even years later, it still shakes Magnus to his very core how Alec can say something so earth-shattering with wide eyes and a clear voice like he’s talking about the weather or a budget report. It’s a fact, a simple statement of truth to Alec: Magnus was born, and it should be celebrated. Because Alec thinks he's a gift. 

Magnus makes a small sound in his throat, a half-groan, and he surges forward to kiss Alec, trying to tell him what he means to him, everything that he is to Magnus, but it’s impossible. 

Alec smiles against his mouth, rough hands holding Magnus’ face carefully. “We have to go in, Magnus.”

“Yeah,” Magnus agrees, reluctantly pulling away, hands untangling from Alec's hair, longer now with fine streaks of gray at the temples. So handsome, he still makes Magnus’ knees weak, always will.

Alec slips inside first but pokes his head out again at the last moment. “And try to look surprised.”

  
\---

  
Clary says, “We didn’t know exactly how old you are, and Alec refuses to tell us, so--”

“--we just used a fuckton of candles,” Jace finishes.

“Sounds about right,” Max says, scratching at the beard he’s been trying to grow for the past year. It’s still a tragic wisp that makes him look like a blue goat, but Magnus has made plenty of his own fashion missteps, so who is he to judge?

Next to him, Rafael jabs him with his elbow, strong arm already swirled with dark runes and dotted with pink and faded silvery scars. He’s serious and handsome, patient and steadfast, and reminds Magnus so much of Alec that it hurts Magnus sometimes, like looking at the past through a telephoto lens, crisp and clear but so far away. It’s a good kind of hurt -- the sharp pain of nostalgia and a love too big to be contained by a single heart, the kind that tucks up under your ribs and simmers there, ever present and aching. Rafael wears his deflect rune on the side of his neck. 

Both of his sons are good men. Kind and compassionate, occasionally stupid as all young men are but big-hearted. Somehow, he and Alec made it, wandering blindly without any sort of plan, stumbling over the topography of their lives.

The large sheet cake is covered with so many candles that the script beneath is practically illegible.

Maryse is behind the boys, dressed in blue. Robert is nowhere to be seen, but Magnus wouldn’t have expected him to come. Robert Lightwood accepts his son’s decisions with the kind of ease that comes with not being overly involved in any of his kid’s lives, but Maryse was upset and wouldn’t speak to Alec for days, then reluctantly came by the following week to see the baby the whole Institute was talking about.

She held Max in her arms, had touched his cheeks with the back of her finger while he made soft cooing noises up at her. “He’s beautiful,” she said, looking up at them as if surprised, eyes damp with tears. She’d become a regular after that, stopping by every free weekend to spend time with the boys. Maryse had come around slowly, fighting her prejudices and re-aligning her worldview, something that Magnus finds he respects much more.

Max leans over to whisper something in her ear, and she smacks his arm lightly, mouth twitching into a small grin despite itself, like he's seen her do to Jace more times than he can count.

Magnus remembers Max as a baby, holding his frail body close and so afraid of dropping him; he remembers the first night, sleeping with Alec on the floor, exhausted and covered in baby powder and pee; he remembers Max’s first steps, shaky and unsure on chubby bowed legs; he remembers taking Max to the park and holding him up on his shoulders to see if they could touch the clouds; he remembers Rafael coming home, shy and unsure; he remembers the food fights, the frustration, the arguments, the sleepless nights, the sheer terror. But most of all, he thinks of those moments of pride, satisfaction, and so much tenderness.

After all the people Magnus has lost, he did not know if he would ever truly find a family again. He has managed, somehow, half dragged by Alec, towards this place of grace, where he is loved, wholly and unconditionally. Catarina and Madzie are standing to his left, watching expectantly. Raphael is scowling in the corner, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

And Alec is beside him, hand curled over his shoulder. He bends down low and whispers, “Make a wish, Magnus.”

The first time he saw Alexander, he saw beautiful eyes, a shy smile, nice arms, and thought he’d do nearly anything to get to know that boy better. How could he have ever guessed how important he’d be? There’s no such thing as soulmates, but there are small connections with people that have the possibility of taking root and blooming into something so profound, there are no words to adequately describe it. How many momentous moments pass with us none the wiser, just thinking it’s another day like any other? All these small actions and snap decisions that change the trajectory of our lives and bring us somewhere foreign, somewhere new, to some place of unfathomable beauty.

Magnus has a loving partner, a fiercely loyal sister, a judgmental mother-in-law who would do anything for her family, two sullen teenagers that think he’s embarrassing to be seen with in public, and a room full of the absolute best friends. It’s a lot to take in; it’s more than he ever believed he would have or deserved.

“Time to blow out the candles,” Alec reminds him gently.

“Just give me a minute,” Magnus says.

He should probably make a wish. Magnus’ mind goes blank as he realizes there’s nothing he doesn’t have, nothing he would change about the life he’s lived since everything he's done has led him here.

Magnus closes his eyes so he can feel the warmth for just a moment longer, then blows out the candles as the room goes dark.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
